On giving books to people

I went to see the ironmonger in Tonyrefail. He was a huge great bear of a man with a shock of white hair and his ironmonger's shop was like the one on the Two Ronnies (Four candles).

"Geoff Thomas sent me", I said.

"This is so weird", I thought.

We talked. And talked. He gave me a book. I wasn't sure whether it was a gift or a loan. It was R S Candlish on 1 John.

I took it on a walking tour of the Yorkshire Dales on the way to a student conference in Harrogate (Havoc '78).

I sat on dry stone walls by the side of the road, eating my lunch of muesli and dried milk, carefully dosed out in little plastic bags, rehydrated in a little plastic bowl with whatever water I could find, followed by a banana and some chocolate - it's a wonder I'm still alive -

and reading Candlish on 1 John.

When I had finished reading it I took it back to him, hoping he would say "It was a gift."

He didn't.

So I bought my own copy.

But mine is a big thick bulky hardback and his was a nice backpackers' edition.

It's good to give people books. It may be the best thing you can give someone.

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